


And swollen and small is where you'll find me now.

by barthelme



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 22:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17569244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme
Summary: This got out of hand, so I've split it into two parts.





	And swollen and small is where you'll find me now.

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of hand, so I've split it into two parts.

Liz is looking over paperwork on the couch. Timmy's head is on her thigh, eyes closed. Arms crossed, hands tucked into his armpits. Liz has pulled the throw over his body as well as she can; when she hears the door close behind Armie she doesn't look up. Whispers, "Can you grab the other throw?" She turns a page and then lowers her hand to Timmy's head. Carefully weaves her fingers through his curls and pushes them away from his face. He hadn't come home last night. 

Home. Armie isn't sure when the apartment became home, and isn't sure if it's home for him. Not yet. It sure wasn't three years ago when he and Liz moved in; they didn't have a couch or a toaster. Slept on an old inflatable mattress until Armie got a part-time job striping parking lots. They'd take turns waking up in the middle of the night to plug it in so they wouldn't sink to the middle. Take turns, even though the noise would wake both of them. Depending on how the previous day would go, they'd either exchange a look that said, "This isn't forever, this is just right now, this is just how things are in this moment," or one that said, "Well, we're awake now, so," and Armie would end up between Liz's thighs. Her underwear usually still stuck around one of her ankles, hand cupping the side of his face as his tongue traced the folds of her cunt, teased her clit while she tried not to press up against his mouth. Tried not to push or plead, until she couldn't help it anymore and her hand would tighten in his hair, or sometimes she'd latch onto his earlobe, and she'd grind up against him as a chuckle passed through his belly, his throat. 

Or, sometimes, she'd turn off the pump and then shove the blankets down to Armie's knees. Sit on his thighs and pull his cock out. Spit on her hand, the head of his dick, and quickly work him until he was gripping the edge of the mattress too hard, until she could lean down and wrap her lips around him to avoid a two-in-the-morning clean-up. Swallow, and say, "Stop that; I'm not getting up again to inflate this thing." 

Eventually, they got a bed they could fuck on and sleep through the night. 

But it still wasn't a home. The walls were bare and they'd moved the silverware drawer three times. It never made sense; Armie insisted it should be by the dishwasher and Liz claimed it made more sense under the tableware cupboard. 

They never asked, "When are you coming home?" when the other had a late night. They asked, "Will you be back for dinner?" or "Will I see you later?"

Armie pulls the throw off the armchair. Holds it by two of the corners and walks across the room. Drapes it over Timmy's shoulders, his torso. Tries to spread it over his legs that are tucked up into his body. Tucks the remainder under his toes, smirking when Timmy shudders in his sleep. So ticklish. "Wish you could hire him back," Armie says. 

At that, Liz does look up. Holds her place on a page with a bare fingernail. Cocks her head to the side like she's ready to defend herself. Ready to fight. Instead, she says, "We can barely afford to pay me."

"I know," Armie says and then leans down. Kisses her nose, which apparently isn't good enough because she leans up further and kisses his Cupid's bow. He isn't sure who opens their mouth first, but he's positive Liz is the one who takes control. Armie braces himself with a hand on the arm of the couch. Bends his knees awkwardly and lets Liz take what she wants, lets her take what she needs for now until Timmy stirs. 

He rolls until his head is tucked in against Liz's waist. Murmurs, "I see how it is," and Armie isn't even sure if Timmy is actually awake. Pulls back enough from Liz to say, "You'll get yours later," before leaning back in and taking this moment for what it is. Before his back starts to hurt and knees tremble and he has to start dinner. Liz needs to eat before she goes back to the bakery; she always forgets to eat and she get cranky when she's surviving on cupcakes and coffee. 

_____

They eat spaghetti in the living room, even though they have a dining table. There isn't space for a desk, so the dining table is filled with schedules from Timmy's boss. Reminders to pick up dry-cleaning and items that need to be delivered to another office. Liz's recipe books that seem to be mainly post-its and dog-eared pages at this point. Sketches of wedding cakes with notes in foreign handwriting ( _buttercream should be white but not whitewhite | flowers but no roses those look cheap | edible flowers?_) 

Armie doesn't have much on the table. He leaves blueprints in his truck and all the contracts are electronic at this point. Sometimes, the company will start and finish a remodel without ever meeting the owners. Or, Armie won't meet the owners. Maybe his boss does. His boss, who wears suits on the site and fiddles with his hard hat like he hasn't worn one in years, like it doesn't fit. Who puts blue covers over his shoes before doing walk-throughs and doesn't seem to notice the detail of the crown molding but definitely sees one of the workers taking a ten minute coffee break. And Armie has to laugh when he makes a comment about laziness, even though he doesn't agree, even though he's just living in some weird limbo between being the boss and being bossed. 

Right, so Armie doesn't have much on the table. Anything, really. He doesn't have time to work once he gets back to the apartment, anyways. Liz hasn't had a day off in months and Timmy is basically on call twenty-four hours a day. Comparatively, Armie has it easy. He does most of the cleaning, almost all of the cooking. The majority of the listening.

They eat spaghetti in the living room; Liz and Armie on the couch while Timmy sits cross-legged on the floor. His back to the television, hunched over the end table so he doesn't spill. He has a history of dropping food on the carpet. Between bites, he explains his night. "So, then, he ran out of ink and he hates editing on the computer, so I had to drive all over, looking for a place that was open to print the thing."

"You should find someone with better time management," Liz remarks. Dips her garlic bread into the marinara sauce. 

"If he had better time management, he wouldn't need an expensive assistant," Armie says. Winks at Timmy.

"It's not all that bad," Timmy assures them, even though they both know perfectly well that it _is_ that bad. He hasn't had a real day off in weeksand his client is a dick. Reminds Armie of a roommate he had in college who would never clean the bathroom, even though he made most of the mess. Left gobs of toothpaste in the sink and hair in the shower. Complained if the mirrors were dirty or the bathmat was in the dryer. "He gave me this watch yesterday," Timmy drops his fork and pushes up the sleeve of his hoodie. Armie doesn't know much about watches, but he knows money when he sees it. "I mean, he got it in a gift bag and already has one, but still." 

Liz snorts and finishes her plate. Holds out her hand until Armie puts his empty plate in it. "I'll do the dishes when I get home, okay?" 

Timmy and Armie nod, even though they'll probably end up doing them anyways. Before she gets back to the apartment, Armie thinks.

_____

Liz leaves when Armie and Timmy are settling in to watch a movie. She's wearing leggings and one of Timmy's old t-shirts; no bra. When she leans down to kiss them goodbye--first Armie's forehead, then Timmy's cheek--Timmy slides a hand up her side, cups her breast. Armie bites his lip as he watches Timmy's thumb flick over her nipple. "This is an interesting way to attract customers," Timmy comments. Smiles up at her. Squeezes gently, and Armie can see him shift like he wants to kneel, wants to push Liz's shirt up and use his mouth for something other than snark. Instead, he sits back and moves his hand to Armie's knee. 

"I don't think any customers will be banging on the door at midnight," she comments. "And my co-workers aren't tit-obsessed like you." She rolls her eyes, then walks to the door. Grabs her purse and keys and says, "Don't you dare wash the dishes," before walking out. 

The door is barely closed when Timmy says, "I want her to fuck you," like he's suggesting they go wine-tasting the next day they all get off. If that ever happens.

Armie rolls his eyes. "I think we have enough dicks in this relationship," even though he's thought about it. Thought about it a lot, and not just since Timmy's--

arrival? acceptance? initiation? Armie isn't really sure.--

Not just since Timmy. They never talked about it, never had a discussion, but even before Timmy, Liz would sometimes join Armie in the shower. Wash her hair and face like she wasn't in here with a game plan. Rinse the soap from her face and kiss Armie's jaw, his collarbone. Slide her hands across his hips to grip his ass, slide a finger down his crack. Press against his hole and say, "Turn around," like a statement, even though it was a question. Even though she'd laugh it off and move on if Armie said no. 

Instead, Armie would always answer yes, eagerly, too eagerly, turning around and bracing a forearm against the shower wall. Bending a bit and spreading his legs, shivering when he felt Liz lower herself, lips trailing down his spine, the cleft of his ass. Fingers spreading him open before licking over his hole. Eventually working him open with one finger, two fingers. Demanding, "Touch yourself, Armie," requesting, "Want you to come like this."

Afterwards, she would sometimes lay back in the tub. Let Armie watch as she got herself off. Let him listen in as she'd spew words that would sound like filth on any other tongue. Most times, she'd just clean Armie off. Wash them both with his body wash, then turn the water off and go about the day. Armie liked those days. Being taken care of. 

Timmy hums. "Maybe, but I'd still like to see that. Wouldn't you want it?"

Armie wraps an arm around Timmy's shoulder and pulls him closer. Smiles when Timmy takes it as an invitation to all but crawl in his lap, rest his head on Armie's shoulder. "I like your dick," he says. 

"Deflection, deflection," Timmy says, and Armie can already hear the sleep in his voice. Doesn't make fun of him like he normally would. Instead, pulls him closer, holds him tight. "Would be hot. She'd pick out a big dick, too."

"That's what I'm worried about," Armie tries to curve the conversation to a punchline. "I like having the biggest dick in this relationship."

Timmy's already nodding off. "If it's any consolation, you _are_ the biggest dick in this relationship." 

Armie snorts and grabs the remote; turns the volume down a few notches and kisses the top of Timmy's head. 

_____

On Thursday, Liz texts. 

Liz<3: _could you come fix a few of the tables this weekend?_  
Armie: _Yeah, what's wrong with them?_  
Liz<3: _wobbly_  
Armie: _No problem. I can go in with you Friday night?_  
Liz<3: _my hero!_

Armie smiles and pockets his phone. Straightens up when he sees his boss crossing the construction site. "Texting the little lady?" he asks, and Armie shrugs. He tries to avoid conversations about this, even though most people know. They aren't exactly quiet about it. Have never felt a need to be. "Or is it the little lad this time?" Snorts a laugh.

His boss thinks it's all very funny. 

"Oh, it was nothing. Liz needs help at the bakery," Armie explains. "So, we're done with the second floor plumbing and we should be done with--"

"I don't know how you do it. I can barely keep just my wife satisfied," he says. Quickly backtracks, "I mean, she is plenty satisfied, but there's always more to do around the home. Fix this, fix that, get the grill ready, we're having a barbecue." 

Armie nods. "Like I was saying, we should be done with the drywall by the end of the week." 

He doesn't seem to hear. "Just last weekend, she had me bringing down boxes from the attic. I get them downstairs, and then she wants to go through the kids' shit from when they were babies. 'Oh, look at these booties, these pictures,' all that shit. Spent all day doing that, then she wanted me to take her to dinner. You and Liz want kids?"

Armie sighs. Thinks about his mother. How happy she was when he and Liz moved into the apartment, even though she'd wanted their next step to be an engagement. "We're not like that," Armie explained over the phone. Liz was at work and he was surrounded by boxes filled with mismatched plates and books. 

"Not like what? You don't see this going anywhere?"

Armie had raised a hand. Wanted to hit something, but instead dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. "It's already gone somewhere. Christ, Mom, we just moved in together, can you back off?"

"Armand, I'm not sure why you're getting that tone with me. I'm just saying," she paused like she always did when she thought Armie was just trying to be difficult, "That I'd like some grandkids before I'm too old to play with them."

Armie had exited the conversation shortly after that. Stayed mad for a long time, until that turned to bitterness. He didn't even realize he was still bitter about the conversation, about the insinuation that he and Liz should be nothing but a means to grandkids, until over a year later when Timmy was new, Timmy was fresh, Timmy was unknown by most. When Armie's mom showed up unexpected because she was 'Just in the neighborhood!' and Timmy was getting out of the shower. Padding across the apartment, towel drying his hair, unashamed and naked. Blind to the fact that someone else was there, that it wasn't just the three of them. Basically giving Dru a heart attack when he walked into the bedroom like he lived there, because he did live there. 

Armie didn't realize he was still bitter until his mom made an excuse for needing to get home, until the bitterness faded away with her realization that Armie wasn't on any of her paths. 

He leads his boss in through the house's back entrance. "Not something we've discussed yet. Timmy and Liz are a bit busy. We're all busy. Alright, so to your left is where the kitchen will be; breakfast nook, half bath, mud room," he points at each location. 

_____

They are busy, they are all busy, but especially Liz and Timmy. Armie has a schedule that, for the most part, he sticks to. He is able to take a lunch and come home before it's dark. Doesn't need to keep his phone on him at all times. 

They are all busy, but somehow, Liz and Timmy seem to be on the same schedule more often than Armie. They sleep less, work more, need more. 

It's fine, Armie said the first few times he walked in on them mid-fuck or mid-meal. It _is_ fine.  
_____

Liz and Armie had talked about kids. Before they moved in together, even. They wanted kids, but they weren't really sure on a timeline. Liz would say, "I'm not getting any younger," and Armie would say, "We can always adopt," so she didn't feel pressured. They never used condoms, not for a long time, but she tracked her cycle and he knew better than to finish inside her without the go-ahead. Without a confirmation. Knew better than to rush into something they both wanted, because what Liz wanted _right now_ was the bakery. A second location, maybe a third eventually. 

He couldn't do that to her, even if she would be thrilled. Would be so happy, would do whatever it took to make everything work. 

Then Timmy happened and they were using condoms again. Not because they didn't trust Timmy, didn't know he was clean, but because that was a lot to sort out when Armie still got jealous when Timmy's mouth was on Liz and she would slap Armie's thigh, say, "Armie, Timmy needs your cock, don't you baby?" And Timmy would nod, lift up unto his knees, but still focused on Liz.

For a long time, it was what Timmy needed. A cock, a mouth, a kiss. A ride to a job interview (okay, Armie can give him that one, since Liz let him go at the same time Timmy resigned, both agreeing that it wasn't a good idea for her assistant to be getting to any of the bases with her husband or, especially, with her), help with rent, someone to listen when his first client decided to go with someone else. 

But, Timmy was younger. Timmy was young. He was also in a weird relationship limbo; not really sure if he got to use part of the closet yet, if he could borrow socks from Armie without asking. If he should stay and cuddle after being fucked, fucking. If maybe he should make a quiet exit when Armie and Liz were bickering about a parking ticket. 

Armie thinks about how excited Timmy was to be involved in his first fight. It was days before Timmy needed to give his landlord a one-month notice if he was going to be moving out, and he'd mentioned it, but never sat down to talk about it. Kept avoiding the subject, making a joke about it, but then he went out and bought a new bed and Liz was furious. Furious because he should be downsizing if he wants to move in, and where the hell would they fit one more bed? And, "Why the fuck are you so scared to just admit what you want?"

It was a lot for Armie to deal with Liz when she was mad at him, let alone at Timmy, so Armie went for a jog. When he came back, Timmy was gone and Liz was sorting clothes. When Armie asked what she was doing, she threw an old polo at his face and said, "It's like you two idiots don't understand what down-sizing means. Fuck, we need to get rid of a lot of our shit to make room for all of his shit." She looked up at the ceiling and groaned. "Oh, god, he has all those fucking shoes, too."

After Timmy moved in, it was a lot of that. A lot of, "Is it cool if I hang this picture?" and "Is it okay if I just use your shampoo? The shower is really cluttered." Jockeying for mirror space in the mornings and, "For the love of God, I have to pee, hurry up," with a bonus, "Why the fuck are all the spoons always dirty?"

But, Timmy did agree that the silverware belongs under the tableware. And now, it's been a year of him not picking up his dirty plates and talking everyone else into eating too much take-out and changing the channel without asking permission. They haven't brought up kids, but Liz has mentioned going on birth control. Getting rid of the condoms. And, Timmy commented last week that they should really open a joint bank account. "The round robin rent shit is annoying. And, we could start saving up for a down payment."

"A down payment?" Liz had asked. 

Timmy nodded. "For a house? I mean, unless you guys like tripping over one another and not having enough closet space. That's cool." Then, he went back to whatever game he was playing on his phone; Armie and Liz had shared a _look_ and that was that. They set up an account the next week; each agreeing to add the same amount every pay period. Every now and then, one of them will share a house listing in their group text. Usually, the other two will rip it apart, but sometimes, rarely, Liz will say, "Oh, I love entryway," or Armie will make a comment about the yard. Timmy is a sucker for a walk-in closet, but is terrible at seeing past paint colors. 

(One time, Timmy was looking over Armie's shoulder at a house ten minutes from the city center. "We could have an actual office," Armie noted. They'd decided they need two bedrooms for them; sometimes, rarely, one will need some space. Or be sick and not want two people crowding them. Or just want to jerk off in peace. But this was a three bedroom house and it's in their price range. Sure, the yard could use some work, but Armie could finish that. Armie can do that. 

"Sure," Timmy said. Rubbed a hand along Armie's side and shimmied his shoulders. "Or a _nursery_."

Armie snorted. Pressed his ass back against Timmy's crotch to get him out of his space a bit. Timmy retaliated by pressing against him firmly, biting the back of his neck. "Pretty sure you have no idea how babies are made," Armie said. "But, I mean, you can keep trying this way if you want.")

_____

None of this was planned, exactly, though. Liz never planned to need an assistant, never planned for some kid with curly hair and an eye for detail to show up for the interview with a list of ideas for the bakery. Never expected him to actually make her life easier and enjoyable, to give her time to enjoy baking again. Enjoy the bakery that used to be her home away from...apartment? Armie never expected to show up one day with lunch and meet the famous _Timmy_ that Liz never shut up about. To get roped into a conversation about movies and book adaptations while Timmy sorted spices. Never expected to invite him to dinner and notice the way Timmy just seemed to fit. How he softened the harshness of Liz's brow and could silence one of Armie's inappropriate jokes with a sharp eyeroll. 

He never expected, weeks later, for Liz to come through the door, crawl into Armie's lap. Rest her head on his shoulder and say, "Timmy has a date." Never expected them to both be that upset, even though they'd never talked about it. Never even suggested that this might be an option. Might be the only option. Because they fought a lot, but they still needed one another. And Timmy wasn't a buffer, was never a go-between. He was more like a chain, a link, a piece in their interchangeable puzzle. 

Armie certainly never thought he'd show up one day when Liz was out of town at a conference, never expected to corner Timmy in the back room and ask, "Do you want to fuck my girlfriend?" without an angry note, without an accusatory tone. In such a way that Timmy froze, then nodded. Licked his lips and said, "Do you want me to?" before letting Armie kiss him. Letting him take, take, take until Armie pulled back, said, "We should wait," and Timmy agreed, "Until Liz gets back."

They waited and when Armie approached the topic, Liz had all but moaned. Said, "Fuck, I've been thinking about this since he walked into the bakery."

So, it all just fell into place and somehow, the apartment eventually became a home for everyone but Armie. Timmy would say, "See you at home," and Liz would text, "I'll be home soon," but to Armie, it was just an apartment. 

He's not sure what changed, but one day, he was driving home to the apartment and Liz was calling it home. Liz was calling Timmy home.

_____

 

On Friday, Armie takes a nap, then goes in to the bakery with Liz. He turns the tables over and tightens the legs. Tries to show Liz how to do it while she waits for timers and dough. "This one is just a different length," Armie notes. Gets the saw from his truck and measures twice, three times, then cuts. Sands it down so it won't scratch the floors. 

"You're too good," Liz mentions from behind the counter. She has a spot of flour on her cheek. 

"Anyone can saw a table leg," Armie laughs. He sweeps up the sawdust and walks around the counter. 

Liz takes a bite of a fresh scone. Offers it to Armie, who chomps off a corner. "No, I mean in general. Good to me. And Timmy."

Armie doesn't take compliments well, so he just rolls his eyes and throws out the sawdust. Swallows the scone and says, "That's good. Does it come with coffee?" 

He stays while Liz finishes up a few more batches of cookies, helps her frost some cupcakes. By the time they get home, Timmy is getting ready to go into work. "It's early," Liz notes as she strips down to her underwear. Kisses Timmy's cheek and heads to the bedroom. 

"Book signing this morning," Timmy explains. 

"Thought he was still editing?" Armie asks. 

Timmy nods and grabs his bag, his keys. Kisses Armie's cheek. "Bye Liz!" he calls out. "Yeah, he's doing a reading from the draft, but a signing for his previous novel. Like he needs more people stroking his ego to get this finished," he says, then he's leaving. 

Armie locks the door behind him and goes to brush his teeth, wash his face. He peeks in the bedroom; Liz is already asleep. Left side of the bed. 

(Normally, Liz stays on the left side and Armie on the right. It was always that way. Timmy could sleep next to an erupting volcano, so he sleeps in the middle. When they're all together, he moves from body to body like he's looking for the cool side of the pillow. Sometimes, Armie will wake up cold and turn to see Liz's head on Timmy's chest and feel a slight pang of jealousy. But there always seems to be room for one more and he'll find himself pulled in, not sure who is holding him and who is stroking his hair. Leaning into it all and falling back asleep.)

He rinses and walks around the apartment, turning off lights. Picks up a bit, loads the dishwasher. Walks by the dining table and sees a manuscript. "Fuck," he whispers. Picks it up and tucks it under his arm. Finds his keys and calls Timmy, who swears and apologizes. "Timmy, babe, it's fine. Just tell me where to drop it off. Text me an address and I can get it to you."

By the time Armie makes it back to the apartment, he's not even tired anymore, but he lays down on the couch. Rests his eyes. 

_____

A month later, the renovation is complete. Apparently, it sells for higher than the asking price, but Armie doesn't get anything other than a pat on the back for that, of course. He wants to text Liz and Timmy, wants to bitch and complain. But, when he opens up the group chat, there's a text from Timmy.

timmy<3: _who has two thumbs and dropped their asshole boss's coffee and now has to backtrack a half mile in the rain to get another one?_  
liz<3: _aww babe :(_

He scrolls up, reads old texts. 

liz<3: _lol fuck me the new girl wrote down twelve on the order form instead of twelve dozen guess i'm not coming home tonight_  
timmy<3: _i mean i could come and fuck you if you want but i think that's a code violation_  
Armie: _Need me to come help? I can do dishes or soemthing._

timmy<3: _going to be late late late late late love you both_  
Armie: _There's leftover lasagna in the fridge. Love you!_

liz<3: _mary berry would be so disaapointed in my soggy bottoms today_  
Armie: _I love you bottom, even when it's soggy._  
timmy<3: _ditto though can we not refer to one another as soggy ever again_  
Armie: _Deal._

Armie sighs stares at the front of the apartment building. 

Armie: _Anyone need anything from the store?_

It's a Friday, so he texts Nick. 

Armie: _Wanna go grocery shopping and then get drunk_  
nick!: _I love when you talk maturely irresponsible to me_  
nick!: _Give me ten so I can check my pantry and find a shirt_

_____

Armie forgets the ice cream in his truck. He's on his third beer when he remembers; jogs down to the guest parking and checks the bed. It's melted through the paper bag. "Fuck," he says. It's Timmy's favorite. Butter pecan. He tosses the bag in the dumpster and makes a note to hose it down on Monday at the job site. 

When he gets back up to Nick's, there's a joint and a fresh beer waiting for him. Nick doesn't ask about Liz or the bakery, Timmy or the famous mystery author (whose books are truly terrible, just awful, like his personality.) Just asks if he wants to play video games or cards. 

Armie chooses video games because he wants to blow shit up. 

_____

Armie forgets to text that he's going to stay at Nick's. He ends up passing out on the couch and waking up when Nick plops down next to him in the morning. "Liz texted me so," he says. 

"Fuck me," Armie whispers. Grabs his phone. 

liz<3: _i thought you went shopping?_  
liz<3: _it's okay if you didn't we can go_

timmy<3: _hey which detergent do we normally get?_

liz<3: _let us know if you'll be home for dinner! love you!_

timmy<3: _WE WILL CLEAN THE KITCHEN DON'T TOUCH IT OKAY_  
timmy<3: _leftover nachos in the fridge? probably not very good now._

Armie: _Sorry; got drunk with Nick._  
liz<3: _no worries. everything okay?_  
Armie: _Yeah just needed some Nick time._  
timmy<3: _say hi to nick_  
timmy<3: _give him a hug and a big kiss_  
liz<3: _no tongue_  
timmy<3: _yeah, ditto_

Armie rolls his eyes and shows Nick, who laughs. Says, "I've known you longer than both of them combined. If anyone deserves some sweet Hammer loving, it's me."

They both grimace. "Don't say that ever again," Armie requests. 

"Never saying that again," Nick agrees.

_____

When Armie gets to the apartment, the kitchen is clean, but the bed is unmade. Timmy's boxers are on the floor and Liz's underwear (white, cotton, the kind she wears when she's not looking to impress. As if she ever needs to impress Armie, ever needed to impress either of them.) The bedroom smells like sex and feels warm and Armie wishes he'd brought home the groceries and put the ice cream in the freezer. 

The nachos in the fridge look soggy. He tosses them in the garbage and puts the plate in the dishwasher. Makes a sandwich and eats it at the dining table.


End file.
